


I'm not crying, you're crying

by The_Unnamed_Writer



Series: Aaron Hotchner and Grant Ward: Troublemakers [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Has Issues, Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Aaron Hotchner Whump, Aaron Hotchner also has anger issues, Aaron and Grant are buds, Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Anger, Anxiety Attacks, Autistic Leo Fitz, Autistic Spencer Reid, Bad Boys, Compassionate Grant Ward, David is a dad, Dominant Aaron Hotchner, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Whump, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Foster Care, Grant Ward Feels, Grant Ward has Anger Issues, High School, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Romance, and that's why they're friends, but it does get better, highschool, meltdowns, so does grant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29708784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Unnamed_Writer/pseuds/The_Unnamed_Writer
Summary: Hotch ("Your name is Aaron, stop it with the stupid nicknames") was fifteen, and he had been in more foster homes than he could count. There was always an issue; too violent, too whiny, tooneedy. He knew he was hated universally. He had to be. He even had the scars to prove it.His last resort is a group home run by David Rossi, where three other kids live. He knows it's only a matter of time before he's out again, except this time, the only place he'll be going in a wayward home for boys like him. Boys who don't do anything but screw up. But the longer he stays there, the more he feels at home. Perhaps this is something new.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Keep in mind this fic is Hotch-centric. The other characters are side characters.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Grant Ward, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid/Jemma Simmons
Series: Aaron Hotchner and Grant Ward: Troublemakers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183337
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> And I am back again with the BAU. Just to clarify, this is part of a series, and the MCs of said series will be Hotch and Ward. Ward is in a foster/sorta group home run by Coulson, and Hotch is in a group home run by Rossi. Just to clarify who is with who:  
> Coulson: Emily, Leo, Jemma, and Grant  
> Rossi: Spencer, Hotch, Penelope, and JJ  
> Also, I would like to clarify I am an autistic author, which is the reason I write autistic characters. That also means I suck at writing emotions. Please tell me if something can be better, or even if you want to look over this stuff before I add new chapters. Help and feedback is highly appreciated! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron is placed in a last-resort home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I rewrote this because it was really terrible. I also forgot to add Derek in.. I knew I was forgetting somebody, lol. I'll have to fill in the gaps for each chapter, so you might want to read it again (maybe an hour or two after I post this, though).  
> The (revised) homes:  
> Rossi: Spencer (6), Penelope (11), Derek (13), JJ (13), and Aaron (15)  
> Coulson: Grant (15), Leo (8), Jemma (8), and Emily (13)

Aaron Hotchner had given up on finding a permanent home a long time ago. Now it was all about survival; get through this home without too many injuries, then onto the next. No one had wanted him; not even when he was seven years old. At least then he lasted more than a month in one place; nowadays, his longest placement was for three months, and that was usually because he was forgotten. 

He was always forgotten.

Nothing about him was memorable; he had plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, a boring voice, an ordinary face. The only special thing about him was the fact that he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Even as a kid, he got into fights with the other fosters; he was pretty good at it, too. He couldn't always explain how he felt with his words, but his fists could tell a whole story. He lost count of how many times he'd been told, "Keep your hands to yourself." He never did.

It was strange (at least to him) that, while he didn't bother punching, kicking, or any other form or hitting, he hated being touched. It reminded him of how he got the scars on his body.

He remembers his first time undressing in front of other kids; the middle school locker room, where he was changing into the school shirt and basketball shorts. The normally rowdy locker room fell silent when he took his shirt off, and when he looked around, he noticed they were all staring at him. At the scars that covered his body. He promptly told them all to fuck off, and after that, he didn't change in there again.

Right now, he was shoving the few belongings he had into a black duffel bag his social worker, Amelia, gave him. He'd been in group homes for the past three years; the most recent being Sunnyside Hills Group Home for Troubled Teens. Apparently, he was too troubled, even for them. He wasn't a peacekeeper, he was a peace-breaker, as one of the founders of the home, Danielle, explained. She wasn't wrong, but it still stung, just a little bit. 

He had one chance left before being put in a wayward home and dumped on the streets when he turned eighteen. He wanted to be hopeful, to be determined to do better, but he knew he would screw it up, just like every other opportunity he got. And he got a lot of opportunities.

This new place, Amelia explained, was a last-resort for high-risk kids (like himself). It was run by a former FBI agent, and while its capacity made it a group home, it had become a permanent place for the four kids that were already there. The man who ran it, David Rossi, didn't like to give up kids unless there was someone else in place for them.

She also gave him a lecture on being good and not punching every kid who looked at him the wrong way, but he blocked that out.

The drive from his old home to his new one was fifteen-ish minutes, and it was silent the whole way there. Aaron liked the quiet; it gave him time to think, to process, and to decide whether or not he should be afraid. Amelia told him he shouldn't be, but she told him that before every new placement, regardless of whether or not it would be dangerous. He'd have to evaluate it for himself.

A former FBI agent meant it would probably be strict. The question was how strict, however, and Aaron planned on testing that. Thoroughly. Four adopted kids meant he might not be physically abusive, or at least, if he is, he's good at hiding it. Taking in high-risk kids as a last resort meant he liked the challenge (and Aaron was going to test the limits of that, too). It would be interesting, the teenager decided. 

When they pulled up by the curb, Aaron wasted no time in getting out and walking up to the front door. Amelia hurried to follow after him, giving him a look when she did. She knocked on the door, quickly adjusting her hair. A boy, maybe eleven or twelve, opened up the door, giving both of them a look of distrust. He paused for a moment before turning around and yelling, "Dad!"

A flutter of footsteps later, a man with greying hair opened the door, looking at Aaron and his social worker. "You must be Aaron," he said. "I'm David Rossi, but you can call me Dave or David. Nice to meet you."

Aaron nodded his hello and shook the hand Dave extended towards him. "Thanks for dropping him off, Amelia," he said, opening the door more and gesturing for Aaron to come in. "I'll call you if we have any problems."

Inside, it was warm, and he could smell something being made inside. "We're just about to eat dinner," David explained. "Have you eaten yet?"

The teenager nodded, lying. Dave smiled. "Then Derek will show you your room. You share with Spencer and him. You get top bunk. Derek?"

The foster parent looked to the dark-skinned boy beside him, Derek apparently, and motioned for him to go upstairs. The kid looked at Aaron and led him up the steps, showing him to a room on the left with two bunk beds on either wall. It was big, that was for sure, bigger than any other room Aaron had had before. When he turned to thank the boy who led him up, he was surprised to see he had vanished. It creeped him out a bit.

He tossed his duffel bag onto one of the top bunks, climbing up into it. He unzipped the bag and rifled through it, eventually pulling out a stack of photos. He flipped through them, smiling softly to himself, before putting them back in the bottom of his bag.

He heard Dave call the kids down for dinner, and a few moments later, he added, "Aaron, can you come down for a sec?"

With a sigh, the teenager swung down from the bed, making sure his duffel bag was mostly out of sight. He padded downstairs, walking towards the source of the noise and stopping at the entrance to the kitchen. 

"Hey, Aaron. I just wanted to make sure you met everyone before you went to bed," Dave explained. "Kids, why don't you introduce yourselves?"

A small boy with round glasses that seemed way too big for him spoke up first. "I'm Spencer, I'm six years old. Do you talk or are you mute?"

Aaron felt his mouth open for a second, taken somewhat aback by the question. Eventually, he said, "..I talk."

Spencer nodded. The girl beside him who looked to be nine or ten spoke next.

"I'm Penelope, but everyone calls me Penny, or Penpen, or- oh, right, yeah, sorry, I'm eleven."

Eleven. She was small for her age. 

"I'm JJ, I'm thirteen," the next girl said, not bothering to look up from her plate of food. 

"You know me already, I'm Derek. I'm also thirteen."

Dave smiled, clapping the nearest kid (Derek) on the back. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, okay. I'm Aaron, I'm fifteen," he said quickly. His eyes shifted from person to person, scanning for signs of aggression.

"You're the oldest foster we've ever had," Penelope said. Aaron nodded, staying silent.

"You can go back upstairs if you'd like, Aaron," Dave said, saving him from another moment of awkward silence. He nodded and turned quickly, heading upstairs.

He relaxed on his bunk for a while, half-dozing. At around eight p.m., Dave came in, saying, "You can take a shower if you'd like. There's spare stuff under the bathroom sink."

The man paused, looking at the teenager. "I was also thinking we could go shopping tomorrow, get some new clothes and school supplies for you. If you want, of course."

Aaron nodded. "Sounds good."

After Dave left, he did decide to take a shower; true to his word, there were spare sets of toiletries beneath the sink, and he grabbed the closest shampoo and body wash, starting the shower and stepping under the stream of lukewarm water. He felt his muscles relax and the tension fall from his shoulders as he scrubbed his skin with the body wash ("Bear Claw" scented, apparently). Exhaustion started to creep in as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, quickly drying off his hair and body.

He changed into a pair of basketball shorts and a long-sleeved black tee, something comfortable and breathable. He climbed into bed after Spencer and Derek, both of which gave him curious looks as he did so. He looked through his duffel bag, panicking when he realized his photos were missing.

"Did you guys go through my stuff?" He asked the other boys. They both shook their heads. "Did you see who did?"

"JJ was in here when I came in," Spencer supplied. "On your bunk."

Aaron hopped down, hurrying downstairs to find JJ in the living room. "Where are the photos you took from my bag?" He demanded.

"What photos?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Spencer already ratted on you. Give them back."

JJ shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I don't have your stupid photos, okay?"

"Oh, so Spencer was just lying? Huh?"

Aaron could feel the anger boiling inside him.

"You're nuts, dude," JJ told him.

"Give them back to me. _Now._ " Aaron told her, his voice dropping down.

JJ stood up, pushing him in the chest. "No. What're you gonna do about it?"

He pushed her hard enough to force her back on the couch. "I can see why your parents didn't _fucking_ love you," he spat, turning on his heel and storming upstairs. He went back to the shared room and hopped up on his bunk, fuming. It wasn't long before Dave came in with a red-eyed JJ in tow.

"JJ has something of yours," he said. The girl threw his pictures on the floor of their room, storming out. 

"Aaron, we'll talk about your behavior in the morning. Get some rest, guys," Dave said, his tone soft but stern. 

"Night, Dad," Spencer said. 

"Goodnight."

Aaron collected the photos from the floor and put them on a shelf by his bed, pulling a blanket over himself and closing his eyes. He doubted he would sleep much that night, but he could pretend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping with Rossi and the first day of school.. oh, and Grant is introduced in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless parent-teacher conferences. The only reason I'm able to post today is because I had a half-day lol. Oh, and to clarify the ages (and also so I don't be a big dumb and forget):  
> Hotch is fifteen, Ward is fifteen, JJ is thirteen, Derek is thirteen, Emily is thirteen, Penelope is eleven, Leo and Jemma are both eight, and Spencer is six. Ngl, I'm pretty excited for this chapter.

Aaron woke up the smell of french toast, his stomach grumbling to remind him he hadn't eaten dinner last night. He peeked over the edge of his bed, seeing Spencer's bed already made. The kid must be an early riser.

He hopped off the edge, realizing there was a ladder once he hit the ground. Jumping was more fun anyway. He grabbed the only other change of clothes he had from his bag, slipping on the jeans and plain blue t-shirt that tightened around his shoulders. He really did need new clothes (preferably ones that didn't ride up three inches with every step).

He was hesitant to go downstairs after what happened last night, but as soon as Penelope saw him at the top of the steps, she yelled, "Aaron! Come on! Dad's french toast is _so_ good!"

Hotch forced a smile at her and padded slowly down the steps, glancing at the front door in case he needed a quick escape. Once he was in sight of David and the other kids, he could feel his muscles tensing; was he going to be beaten for his outburst last night? Would they send him back?

Rossi noticed his hesitance and waved him over. "I wasn't sure what you liked on yours, but there are blueberries, strawberries, and powdered sugar if you want some toppings."

Aaron nodded, putting one small-ish piece of french toast on a plate offered to him by Dave. He dribbled a small amount of syrup on his, using a knife to spread it around, and took slow, tentative bites. Penelope was right; that french toast was the best he'd ever tasted. It didn't take long for him to finish his plate, and he didn't bother to get more. Better to leave it to the other kids, right?

David intercepted him on his way to the sink, slyly placing a second piece on his plate. Aaron looked up at him and Rossi only laughed, walking to the table to eat. The teenager turned around and ate his second piece, ignoring the glares he got from JJ.

"Okay, Phil's agreed to watch you little gremlins while Aaron and I go shopping. He has a new foster there, so remember not to swarm or overwhelm him with questions, ahem _Penelope._ "

The eleven-year-old giggled, holding up three fingers in a scout's honor. "I promise, Dad!"

David chuckled and waved them upstairs. "Go get ready, kids. Aaron, do you mind staying down for a minute?"

Aaron nodded, biting his tongue in anticipation for a slap once the kids were upstairs. Instead, David started handing him the empty plates, instructing him to put them in the sink.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night," Dave began while Hotch scrubbed the plates free of syrup, fruit, and sugar. Aaron froze momentarily, remembering to continue his task.

"It's not okay to swear or yell when you're upset, nor is it okay to tell people they aren't loved. You know that, yeah?"

Aaron nodded, turning the sink off and turning to face Rossi. He knew a slap had to be coming. It was just a matter of when.

"Okay. I'd like you to apologize to JJ, and then we can get going," Rossi said, reaching a hand out to pat his shoulder. Aaron flinched harshly, out of the way, his hands coming up in a defensive stance.

David held both hands up in surrender, walking back a few steps. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I should've known not to touch you. That was on me. I will never touch you in a way that hurts or makes you uncomfortable if I can help it, okay?"

Aaron nodded, his shoulders relaxing a tiny bit. "I'm gonna... I'm going to go get ready."

David nodded and continued to clean up as Hotch hurried up the steps, trying to slow his breathing. He felt pretty stupid for flinching; it was a pat on the shoulder, after all, not a punch or a slap. On his way to the bathroom, he passed JJ and figured he should better get the apology out of the way. Even if Dave wouldn't hit him for yelling, he probably would for disobeying.

"Hey, JJ. I'm, uh, sorry for yelling last night. And saying those things about your parents. Especially over some, uh, dumb pictures," he said, looking at the wall. The word "dumb" felt wrong on his tongue when he spoke about the pictures, but it was true. He didn't need such a weird attachment to pieces of paper.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too. And.. they aren't dumb. When I first got here, I had this weird bear I got from my parents as a kid. I never let anyone touch it. I should've known not to touch your pictures. I would've hated it if it was my bear, y'know?" She replied awkwardly. He nodded, pausing for a second before holding out his fist for a fistbump. JJ laughed and pressed her knuckles against his in a sort of truce.

"Anyways. Carry on," he excused himself, walking the remaining few feet to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was sort of excited to get new clothes. It had been far too long since he had, and he really did need some. Not that he'd admit it, either, but he was interested in getting to know Dave better. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

They all piled into David's SUV, Aaron claiming the front seat. JJ rolled her eyes and squeezed into the middle seat, complaining the entire five-minute drive to Phil's house. Penelope finally got her to shut up by tickling her stomach, replacing her complaints with laughter - which was a lot better.

"Do you want to meet Phil? He's going to be dropping you off on Monday," Dave offered. Aaron shrugged and nodded, stepping out of the car with the rest of the group. Outside, two kids were playing some form of tag. As Dave and the herd approached, they stopped and ran up to Spencer, speaking in rapid sentences about science-y stuff.

"That's Leo and Jemma, or FitzSimmons. They're in Spencer's class," Dave explained over the trio.

The remaining four went the rest of the way up to the door, knocking three times. A man with greying hair and a receding hairline opened the door, smiling at Penny, Derek, and JJ. 

"Come on in, you three. Emily is up in her room," he explained. After the two girls went racing past him and up the steps, he extended a hand to Hotch. "Phil Coulson. You're Aaron, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir." 

"I think you're Ward's age, actually. He's our new foster. Would you like to meet him?" Phil offered kindly. Aaron nodded again, interested to see who this Ward kid was. It would be nice to have someone his own age nearby.

Coulson left the doorway momentarily, returning with a teenager in tow. "Ward, this is Aaron. He's Dave's new foster," Coulson explained.

Hotch quickly noticed the cast on the kid's arm and instinctively said, "I hope the other guy looks worse than you."

There was a moment of silence before Ward cracked a grin. "Trust me, he does."

Coulson waved Ward outside and Aaron led him a few feet away. "So."

"So."

"Is Ward a last name?"

Ward nodded. "First name's Grant. You can call me that, if you'd like. You seem cool."

"Ah. You can call me Aaron."

They nodded simultaneously, smiling at each other.

"We should hang out sometime," Grant suggested.

"Okay. Cool," Aaron responded.

"Cool."

They looked curiously at each other for a few more moments before Dave called Aaron back to the car. "We gotta get going if we want to skip rush hour," he explained.

"I'll see you around, Grant."

"See ya, Aaron."

As Hotch climbed in the passenger seat, he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't interacted with someone his own age in a long time. It was really nice to have a conversation with someone who was twelve or forty.

"So, what'd you think?" Dave asked after a few moments of driving.

"He's cool," Aaron said eventually. "I can see him as a friend."

"Good!" Dave said, grinning. 

* * *

They arrived at the mall within thirty minutes or so, and they were surprisingly efficient at shopping. After two hours, Hotch had a new wardrobe, new shoes, and everything he needed for school - including a laptop and a phone. He'd tried to convince Dave he really didn't need either, but as the older man said, "I need to be able to contact you, and so does the school. Hence, phone and laptop."

The clothes he got were casual and comfortable. He had a few pairs of basketball shorts and tank tops, several pairs of jeans, a surprising amount of single-colored tees, and a pair of black military-style boots. 

"You hungry?" Dave asked, gesturing to a Subway at the food court.

"I could eat," Aaron said.

They ordered their sandwiches and ate in mostly silence. Finally, Dave asked, "Are you... excited about school tomorrow?"

Aaron shrugged. Being a new kid was hard, but when everyone knew you were a foster kid, it got a hell of a lot harder. And somehow, the kids always knew you didn't belong.

"Well, you and Grant are in the same boat, so if you have any problems, I have no doubt that you two will figure something out," Dave said with a smile. 

Aaron didn't doubt it, either.

* * *

When they got home from picking the kids up, it was nearing four o'clock. Aaron hung out downstairs with Spencer and Penelope, who were deep in a debate over whether or not unicorns pooped glitter. Dave helped him set up his phone and laptop, and he regretted not asking Grant for his number. He'd have to remember to ask him tomorrow.

"Aaron, can you settle this? Unicorns don't poop glitter, right?" Spencer asked incredulously. 

"Hm. I dunno, Spencer. Maybe that's how they digest things. With glitter."

Penelope started yelling, "I was RIGHT!" as Spencer groaned. Aaron chuckled, watching Dave mouth to him, "Do you see what you did now?" with a joking look.

Some people just like to watch the world burn.

* * *

That night, after showering and washing his new clothes, Aaron was struggling to go to sleep. He could feel his anxiety running rampant within him as his mind spat out thoughts like, "What if you screw up?" 

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He resigned himself to thinking, "Whatever happens, happens." It seemed to calm him down enough to fall asleep.

He woke up sometime later, breathing hard after a nightmare. He grabbed the pictures from the shelf near his bed, looking at them and holding them close to his chest. His breathing slowed down to a normal rate and the sweat was cold on his skin. He put the pictures back on the shelf and huddled into his blankets, falling back asleep rather quickly.

* * *

Dave woke him up at six the next morning and he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He started to really wake up, getting dressed in some jeans and a red t-shirt and running a comb through his hair. He hurried downstairs despite having an hour before Phil came to pick him up and wolfed down a bowl of cereal, packing an array of folders, notebooks, and binders into the plain black backpack he'd picked out yesterday. He zipped the zippers to the middle of the pocket, placing it by the door with his shoes. When he checked the time, he was both glad and disappointed to see he still had forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until he could see Grant. Forty-five minutes until he'd be stared at like an alien at school. Forty-five minutes until his first day. Forty-five minutes until hell.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, those forty-five minutes passed by quickly, and before he knew it Phil was ringing the doorbell and exchanging the younger kids for Aaron. The teenager climbed into the back beside Grant, giving him a small wave as he did so.

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to drop you guys and run, since work starts at seven-thirty today. Your schedules are at the front desk. I trust you guys will help each other out, and _not_ get in trouble?" Phil explained as they neared the school.

Aaron nodded, sending a mischievous look towards Grant, who returned the expression. Phil sighed, pulling up the curb. "Good enough. Have a great first day, guys!" 

Aaron stepped out of the car, helping Grant with his bag. As soon as they were clear of the vehicle, Phil was gone, racing to work. Aaron looked at the building in front of him, sighing quietly.

"Are you ready? 'Cause I sure as hell ain't," Grant said.

"That makes two of us. Let's get the schedules and go from there, I guess," Aaron said, leading the way into the building.

The front office was busy with staff and students rushing around. There was a line for the front desk that they joined, waiting patiently behind students and parents.

"Can I help you two?" A lady asked when they got to the front.

"We need our schedules. For Aaron Hotchner..." Aaron looked at Grant, who took the hint. "Oh, and Grant Ward."

The lady nodded, flipping through a stack of papers on her desk. "Aaron and Grant. Here ya go," she said, promptly waving them out of the line. "Go through those double doors there, okay?"

Aaron nodded. "I think we have the same classes," he said.

Grant hummed in agreement. "Probably just got lumped into whatever classes had openings. It's convenient, at least."

"First up is English. Ready?" Aaron said, exhaling shakily. Grant nodded, a hint of anxiety appearing on his face. 

"Ready."

* * *

English went by pretty quickly, with only a few weird looks from the other kids. Next was algebra, which Aaron excelled at and Grant, well, sucked at, and Ceramics, where they both sucked equally.

They ran into problems in biology when the teacher started being an ass and hinting at their parents, or lack thereof. Aaron preferred to spite him by completing the work earlier; Grant chose to get into a debate with him over whether or not frogs could fly.

"They're in the air for a good amount of time when they jump, that's gotta count as flying."

"That's literally impossible. They don't have wings, they just jump."

"They jump high and stay in the air for a while. I think it's flying."

Aaron intervened before Grant gave the teacher a mental breakdown, settling it by saying, "I think you should start teaching, since it is, y'know, your _job._ "

They had an hour for lunch at noon which was spent ignoring, or trying to ignore, the weird looks and whispers they got. It was only when they got noticed by some Grade-A assholes that things started going wrong.

One of them grabbed Grant's pudding cup, smashing it on the ground. He and his buddies chuckled, watching with curiosity and doubt as Aaron stood up.

"You're going to need to clean that up," he said calmly. Confidently. The guys laughed at him, one of them poking him in the chest. 

"And what're you gonna do if we don't feel like it?"

Aaron glanced at Grant, who nodded in a way of saying, "I got your back." The teenager grinned.

"Well, you see, my friend and I, we've got a lot of training in dealing with assholes like you. So I suggest you pick up a napkin and clean that pudding up before you learn what exactly we know how to do," he said coldly.

"Your boyfriend has a broken arm. There's five of us, too. You want to take us? Go ahead, retard," the guy said.

"Okay, then."

Aaron began to turn around, making the jocks laugh. He quickly swung around and punched the first guy in the face, following it with a jab to the stomach. Grant joined him in the fight, using his cast as a pretty useful weapon. The jocks got a few good hits in; Aaron had a split lip and a few bruises on his face, and Grant had a bloody nose and a black eye, but in the end, they were victorious. For a few minutes, at least.

"What the **_hell_** is going on here?!"

It was then that he knew he fucked up.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences... but at least there are friends to help you through them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to go and rewrite the first chapter because it was really, really bad. I'm pretty proud of the second chapter, though. Also, trigger warning for this chapter and the next: there will be sexual assault/rape (although it's not graphic). If that triggers you, you can skip over that part. I'll put a trigger warning before and indicate when it's done.

Aaron adjusted the ice pack on his knuckles, looking over at Grant, who looked back at him with a look of accomplishment. 

"We did good back there," Grant said, cracking a smile. Aaron hesitated.

"Yeah," he admitted, "we did."

They had been waiting outside the principal's office for fifteen minutes, ever since Dave and Phil got there. It was oddly silent, save for the sound of printers and distant teacher gossip from the lounge. 

"What'd ya think is gonna happen?" Grant asked, leaning his head back so it rested against the wall. Aaron shrugged. 

"I don't know. I really hope it doesn't involve getting hurt more, though."

Grant nodded, sighing. "Glad to see that I'm not the only one with that fear."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, but it was a comfortable silence. The fight had been a good bonding experience for the pair, a show of what they could do together. They both felt at home around each other, and it was a feeling they hadn't experienced in years.

The door to the principal's office opened, and the principal - Mrs. Strauss - waved them in. Aaron led the way, glancing at Phil and Dave before sitting down in one of the two chairs. Grant occupied the other.

"You two seem to be quite the troublemakers," Strauss began. "Day one and you're already taking down six seniors."

Aaron glanced at his friend, shifting uncomfortably. 

"They started it," Grant blurted out. "They pushed Aaron, and he was just defending himself."

Strauss looked at him curiously. "Breaking three fingers is a lot more than self-defense, Mr. Ward. Now, let's discuss punishments."

Aaron looked at Grant, mentally facepalming at his impulsiveness. It was a bit hypocritical, yeah, but he could control himself enough to not worsen a punishment. 

"You'll be helping out at our sister school, Quantico Elementary and Middle School. You'll be helping with the sixth graders. I believe you both have foster siblings in the sixth grade, yes?"

They nodded. At least it wasn't too bad. Helping out with some little kids didn't seem horrible.

"This is your first offense, so the details aren't on your records. All the colleges will know - that is, if you don't act up anymore - is that you faced disciplinary action today, but they won't know what. Sound good, boys?" Strauss explained. Aaron and Grant nodded, although neither cared too much about their records. They shared the doubt of even going to college, let alone finishing high school.

"Mr. Coulson, Mr. Rossi, you can take these two home for the day. Might want to take him-" she paused, pointing to Aaron "-to an urgent care, just in case he needs stitches for that cut."

The two foster parents thanked her, leading the teenagers out of the classroom. Aaron's momentary relief of an okay-ish punishment vanished, now fearing what would happen when he got home.

"I did say you two would figure your way out of problems," David said, sighing. "I didn't mean this, though, Aaron."

"Neither did I, but you can't say we didn't get into the same thing when we were their age," Coulson said, chuckling. David smiled in response, guiding Aaron out the front door. 

"I'll talk to you later, Coulson."

"Yep, you too, Rossi."

* * *

The drive home was full of a deafening silence. Aaron hated it, too; he couldn't read Dave's face or body language. He wanted - _needed_ to know what would happen. Would he walk in the door and be hit? Or worse, would he be forbidden from seeing Grant again?

It was those fears that made him hesitant to leave the vehicle and step into the house. He braced himself for a smack, but to his surprise, it never came.

"Are you going to hit me?" Aaron asked plainly. Rossi turned around sharply, a look of shock on his face.

"What? No, of course not, Aaron. I'm sorry, I should've explained that to you in the car. No, I just want to talk. Have a seat at the table, please," Dave explained.

Aaron followed his instructions, anxious to see what was going to happen next. Dave walked down the hall and opened the closet, grabbing something the teenager couldn't see. His muscles tensed at first, but relaxed when he saw it was just a medkit.

"Strauss was right. That cut will need stitches. I doubt you'll let the doctors at the urgent care touch you, though, so you'll have to deal will my skills." The man chuckled, taking out the things he needed. He leaned in closer, pausing a few inches away from the wound. "Just tell me if you need me to stop. I'll try and be fast, but I need you to try not to flinch. I don't want to accidentally stitch your nose to your eye."

Aaron leaned in, just close enough so David could start the stitches. He clenched his fists, breathing shakily. He hated every moment of it, even though he knew Rossi was doing this out of necessity.

"All done," Dave said after a few tense minutes. Aaron exhaled, leaning back into the chair. "Now, we need to discuss the fight at school."

"It was out of self-defense. I may have gone a little overboard, though," he said regretfully. Dave barked out a laugh.

"You went a little more than overboard, Hotch. You and Grant gave two of them concussions. You know how hard you have to hit someone to concuss them, right?"

Hotch nodded, color rising to his cheeks. "They made me mad. I wanted to protect Grant," he admitted. "He's the only one that makes me feel at peace."

"I know. That's why I think it's important for you two to have a good relationship. But you can't go around punching people for.. what did these guys do again?"

"Smashing pudding cups," Aaron supplied.

"Right, you can't go around punching guys for smashing pudding cups, even though that is a crime against humanity," Dave chuckled, secretly proud of himself for getting Aaron to smile.

"I know. I just lost control, I guess."

Rossi nodded. "I'm going to get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. All the kids have seen him, and it's more for a check-up than because you've done something that's out of the ordinary." Dave stopped. "Well, punching a dude is out of the ordinary, but you know what I mean, right?"

Aaron nodded, chuckling lightly. "You want to see how screwed up I truly am."

Rossi gave him a look. "No, I want to make sure there's nothing more going on with you, mentally. You've been through a lot in the past, what, eight years, and that has its effects on everyone. I don't expect you to be a perfectly adjusted kid, but I do want to be able to help you in areas you struggle in."

The teenager nodded, exhaling slowly. "Does that mean I can still hang out with Grant? Because he's really cool."

"Of course, Aaron. Just not outside of school for the next week. You're grounded," Dave clarified. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"I've never seen a kid smile when they hear they're grounded for a week."

"I'm not your average kid."

"Fair enough."

* * *

The evening went fine, with Grant actually eating until he was full instead of just one small serving. JJ complimented him (away from Dave, of course) on taking down six guys, and Penelope tsked when she saw his cuts. 

"You're gonna be like that, hm? You have such a pretty face, too!" She seemed more upset about the cuts and bruises than he was.

Spencer was interested in the cuts, giving him a list of the possible bacteria he could get inside them. Dave had to cut him off half-way through so Aaron could wipe every cut down with alcohol pads.

The teenager was starting to feel less like an outsider and more like, well, a foster kid. He still had his doubts about this becoming his permanent home, but it was nice to have a break from the abuse. At least for a little while.

Dave told him that he could get a bike, too, so that he could ride to Coulson's house if he wanted to hang out (after his week of grounding, of course). Apparently, he could even ride it to school if he so desired. 

He had an appointment with the psychiatrist at noon on Friday, which was a lot sooner than Aaron expected. Most psychiatrists had patients scheduling months in advance. Apparently, Dave was friends with this one, from the FBI or something. His name was George something, Foster or Fuller or - right, Foyet. Aaron hoped he wouldn't label him as crazy and put him on fifty different meds; he'd seen other kids like that, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't end up like that. 

He fell asleep easily enough, somewhat excited for school.

* * *

The rest of the school week went by pretty quickly. Hotch found himself enjoying helping out in the sixth-grade rooms, where Spencer, Leo, and Jemma resided. Grant made it even more fun, too, and every day they got closer and closer.

On Friday, Dave picked him up after lunch to take him to his appointment. Aaron was anxious about what was going to happen. He had always been wary of shrinks; they made him feel watched, violated. Still, if it made Dave happy, he would do it, especially if it could help him manage his emotions.

The office was quaint, with posters with different mottos scattered along the walls. The chairs were hard and uncomfortable, but luckily, they didn't have to wait long. A short man with greying hair and square glasses came out of the office, waving Aaron in. He stopped Dave at the door, saying, "I want to get to know Aaron first. I'll invite you in towards the end of our session."

Aaron already felt uncomfortable. Something about the psychiatrist made him feel small, afraid. He took a seat on one of the beige couches, rubbing his sweating palms on his pants.

"Hi, Aaron. I'm Dr. Foyet, but feel free to call me George. I feel you've been having some trouble with impulse control and emotional maturity?" The psychiatrist began, leaning forwards to look intently at him.

"I don't know if it's emotional maturity, per se-"

"Sh, I know what I'm talking about, Aaron. What do you think would help you?"

"Uh, I don't, I don't know," Aaron stammered, his anxiety rising. 

***Trigger warning starts here; please don't read this part if it's going to hurt you!***

The psychiatrist sat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh. Aaron scooted over, starting to panic.

"I think I know what you want. You want attention, is that right?"

"No, I, I don't want this, please stop.."

"Sh."

The hand crept towards his crotch, unzipping his zipper.

"Stop, please, I don't want you to, to touch me," Aaron pleaded.

"Stop lying, we both know this is what you want. What you crave," Foyet said, slipping his hand past his jeans and into his boxers. Aaron squeezed his eyes hut, biting down hard on his lip.

"Please.." he whispered.

He didn't stop, not until there were five minutes left in the session. Foyet zipped his jeans back up and pulled him up with a cheery smile. "I think seeing you on a weekly basis will be helpful, yeah?"

Aaron didn't answer, blinking back the tears that came to his eyes. Just before he opened the door to the waiting room, Foyet leaned down and whispered, "If you tell anyone about this, I won't hesitate to make your life hell. Do you understand?"

He nodded, pulling on the handle. He walked as fast as he could, standing behind Dave, who gave him a look of worry. 

***That's the end of the trigger warning. Stay safe, y'all!***

"Is everything okay, Aaron?"

The teenager hesitated, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. He nodded minutely.

"We talked about some difficult things today. I think seeing me on a weekly basis will really help him, if you're comfortable with that, Dave?" Foyet confirmed.

Aaron bit back a whimper at the thought of going through that every week. Dave nodded, saying, "If you think that's what he needs, then that's what we'll do."

Foyet smiled. "Good! I'll see you next Friday, then. Goodbye, Aaron."

The teenager hastily wiped away a tear that spilled out of his eye, hurrying to leave the office. Dave had to jog to catch up with him.

"Is everything okay?"

Aaron didn't have an answer to that. Was everything okay? Was he okay? 

No, he realized. He was not okay.

* * *

Aaron didn't talk for the rest of the night. He only ate a few bites of dinner before excusing himself, spending the rest of his time curled up in his bed. He showered that night versus that morning, feeling gross and dirty. He scrubbed his skin almost raw, ignoring JJ's sarcastic remarks. He just hoped no one had heard him crying in the shower.

He didn't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, and even then, he woke up after an hour, screaming. It was loud enough to wake Dave and Spencer up, both of which spent an hour trying to comfort him. He still refused to say a word. How could he? How could he say that his nightmares were becoming a reality?

The next day, he didn't get up until noon, and at that point, it was Dave who dragged him out of bed. He pulled on some joggers and a sweatshirt, not bothering to eat or brush his teeth or even comb his hair. He would've much rather curled up on his bed, but instead, he had to curl up on the couch.

"Are you feeling okay, Aaron?" Dave asked him when he, again, didn't eat most of his dinner.

"I-" he began, blinking back the tears that came to his eyes. He gave up on speaking and went back to nodding, trying to ignore the disappointed look on Dave's face. He wasn't in the mood for talking, eating, sleeping, hell, he didn't even want to breathe at this point.

On Sunday, he called in reinforcements. Coulson brought over the kids so JJ, Penelope, and Spencer would have something else to do, and Grant could try and figure out what was wrong with Aaron. The two foster parents thought it would be a great idea, especially since Grant had been feeling down recently.

"What's up?" He greeted Aaron, who only shrugged. Grant nodded, taking a seat on one of the chairs in the room while Aaron sat on his bunk.

"You're a lot quieter than usual," Grant commented.

"Don' feel like talkin'," Aaron said gruffly. Grant nodded. At least he spoke, even if it was just four words.

"That's alright. How about Scrabble-ing?"

So, they played round after round of Scrabble down in the living room. Coulson and Rossi watched with worry and hope, praying that Aaron would go back to his old self with the help of Grant. 

"You're good at this," Grant told him after losing for the fifth time.

Aaron shrugged, swallowing. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something before closing it again, resetting the game instead. Grant sighed quietly, his own worries growing.

Soon enough, it was time for Coulson's fosters to go, and Aaron said a quick, "Bye," to Grant, slinking out of a high-five. The other teenager pretended not to notice his aversion to touch.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, Aaron," Grant said, waving goodbye.

And then they were gone, and Aaron returned to being the nearly comatose being he'd been since the appointment Friday. 

He had three nightmares that night, and in total got five hours of sleep. He told himself that was enough, even though it wasn't.

* * *

He started to feel better at school when he was just another face in the crowd. He had small conversations with Grant, who appreciated every word Aaron spoke, and he stayed out of fights. It was only when he and Grant were rushing to their French class that his barely rebuilt world came crashing down.

He rounded the corner and saw none other than Dr. Foyet walking towards them. The psychiatrist grinned and waved, calling out his name. Aaron backed up, quickly telling Grant, "We need to run. _Now._ "

Aaron sprinted down the hallways, pulling Grant along with him. He could hear Foyet yelling after him, but that only made him run faster. He burst out of one of the side doors, running to the edge of the campus, before slowing to a stop.

"Who was that?" Grant asked, catching his breath.

"Psychiatrist. He's not- he's not safe, though, he's not, not nice."

"You mean, he abuses you?"

Aaron looked at him momentarily, then shook his head. He offered no other explanation, and Grant was fairly certain he was lying.

"If he's hurting you, you need to tell someone. No one will judge you, Aaron," Grant said in hopes of convincing him.

"He's not, not hurting me," Aaron whispered. "I'm fine."

And yet, he couldn't even convince himself that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, that was kinda hard to write. I have a good idea of where I'm going with this next, though, so stay tuned. The next chapter should be up tomorrow or Sunday, really depends on my mood (although I'm probably going to end up writing something). Hope y'all enjoyed it, and I promise it's not gonna be this dark for long. Two more chapters, max. And then he starts being happy again.. for a little while ;)


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cycle repeats, the days blur together, and I see a breakdown on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest fic I've ever written (going off of word count) so I'm pretty proud. Thanks for all the comments too, they made me smile! :)

Aaron and Grant had stayed in their corner until the school bell rang, and they blended back into the sea of nameless faces. Outside, Coulson and Rossi were waiting for them, arms crossed across their chests. 

"Heard you two only attended half of the day," Rossi said. Aaron blinked, glancing around, looking for an exit. He didn't find one.

"Come on, let's go home. We need to talk about this," Coulson told Grant. Dave nodded in agreement, gesturing for Aaron to follow him. Once they were in the car, Rossi turned to look at him.

"What's been going on with you these past few days?" He asked. Aaron only shrugged. Dave continued, "Maybe we should start seeing Dr. Foyet more."

"No!" Aaron said quickly. "I mean, I just, I just don't think that will help much," he stammered. "I'm fine, y'know?"

Rossi gave him a look. "You're clearly not. But I'll give you another chance, okay? Please make good use of it."

Aaron nodded, swallowing. He felt so incredibly numb about everything. He hoped Grant wouldn't say anything to Coulson; he was sure Foyet would hear about it if he did.

* * *

The weeks blurred together to become one, never-ending hell-hole. The "therapy sessions" only became worse, and ***Brief trigger warning here*** the hand travelled further and further along his body, making every touch a bad one. ***Trigger warning is over*** He could count on one hand the amount of words he'd say a day, too scared to talk in case he blurted something out. At the end of each session, Foyet would whisper in his ear, "You know what will happen if you tell anyone about this, right?"

He got in a lot of fights, too. He couldn't talk with his mouth, but he could make a good point with his fists. After every fight, every detention, Dave would look at him like some wounded animal and it only made him feel worse. He knew he wouldn't be around much longer, and fighting made him feel good. Feel free.

Dave, true on his word, raised the number of sessions from weekly to biweekly. It was a cycle; the weekend after every session, he'd be silent, stay in his room and barely eat. Once school came around, he fought. Then he saw Foyet on Tuesday, too, and that made him fight more, if that was possible. He got suspended a month after starting; three days off. Aaron was happy about it, too. He hated school, hated everything to do with school. At home was the only place he could get away from Foyet.

Until he couldn't anymore.

He heard their voices downstairs on a Thursday morning. It was too quiet to make out most of it, but he recognized Foyet saying, "I'll handle it."

That sentence had a lot more meanings than the one Dave took it for, too.

The door was closed, and someone knocked, opening it without waiting for a response. The second Aaron saw the grey hair, he froze, pulling his knees up to his chest to seem smaller. 

"Hello, Aaron. I hear you've been having some trouble at school?" The man said. "Why don't you come down here with me?"

"Leave me alone," he whispered, closing his eyes as if that made him invisible. "I don't want you here."

"Stop lying, we both know you do," Foyet said, walking closer to him. Aaron shuffled to the corner of his bed, farthest away from Foyet. It wasn't out of his reach, though, and the psychiatrist grabbed one his hands, pulling on it. "Come on down, Aaron."

Aaron tried to yank his hand back, but it only served in pulling him close enough to Foyet for the older man to grab him and drag him down. Aaron fought with him, but he tried not to make a noise. He couldn't alert anyone to what was happening.

***Trigger warning starts here***

Foyet pinned him to the floor, unzipping his jeans. Aaron tried frantically (but silently) to get out of his grip, but the psychiatrist tightened a hand around his neck and began to grind down on him. Aaron felt a tear roll out of his eyes. He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, enough to yell, " _Get the fuck off of me!_ "

***End of trigger warning***

He kicked out with one leg, nailing Foyet in the crotch. He could hear Dave yelling up, "Aaron? What's wrong?"

Everything, he thought. Everything is wrong. 

Foyet recovered far too quickly. The doctor was in between him and the door, and there was no way he could get past him. He instead clambered over to the window, trying to pull it open. His eyes glanced to the locks, and he hurried to undo them, but Foyet grabbed one of his legs and tried to pull.

"Get off!" Aaron yelled. For some reason, Foyet did. Aaron spared a glance behind him, seeing Dave enter the room.

"What the hell is going on here? Aaron?" He asked in a stern voice.

Aaron pointed to the doctor. "Get, get him out, please." He hated how small his voice sounded, how scared. He refused to make eye contact with anyone, pulling his hands up to cover his face.

"Therapy can be hard, Dave, you know that. I really think-" Foyet began.

"If he wants you out, then I'm going to ask you to leave. Thank you for your.. help," Dave cut him off, gesturing to the open door. The doctor nodded, giving a glare to Aaron as he left. Dave moved over to Aaron, kneeling in front of his position on the floor.

"What happened?" He asked the teenager.

"He, he wouldn't stop," Aaron said. "I wanted him to stop."

Dave had a sinking feeling in his chest. "Stop what, Aaron?"

The teenager stayed quiet, before whispering, "Touching me."

* * *

(this is from Rossi's pov, just fyi)

After some gentle prodding, he got Aaron to spill some details. He realized how many signs he'd shown, from the lashing out to the silence and the nightmares. He felt like shit for not noticing sooner and only seeing a teenager who was overly aggressive. God, he made him go twice a week to that monster.

He brought Aaron downstairs and sent a text to Coulson, asking him to pick up the kids and watch them for a few hours. Then he sat by Aaron and asked him, "What do you want to do?"

The teenager shrugged. Dave could tell he was barely holding his stoic facade together, but it was there nonetheless. 

"We need to file a report," the older man finally said. "Who knows who else he could be doing this to."

Aaron nodded. "I'll do it."

That was a lot easier than he expected.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. I should have, and that's on me," Dave apologized.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not, Aaron. I'm supposed to keep you safe, not bring you to a pedophile twice a week for therapy," Dave said, sounding frustrated.

"I should've told you. It's on me," Aaron said, shaking his head. "Maybe if I didn't fight as much, he would've.."

Dave shook his head. "Look at me, Aaron," he said softly. "This was not your fault. He's a sick, downright evil man, who deserves to rot in hell for eternity. This is all his fault, not yours. Do you understand?"

The teenager nodded, blinking back tears.

"Can I hug you?"

A nod. Dave wasted no time in embracing the teenager, letting him cry softly into his shirt.

* * *

He didn't return to school for the next week, but Grant stopped by and gave him his work. He wasn't aware of what had happened, but he was glad Aaron was doing better. 

Spencer seemed to know what was going on, and he was there to comfort Aaron after every nightmare (which happened multiple times a night). Penelope seemed pretty clueless, but it was nice to have someone so optimistic. JJ had an inkling of what happened, so she toned down the remarks, but Aaron did enjoy the comments she made. In moderation, of course.

Dave helped him file a police report, sitting next to him as he explained in detail what happened to the officer. He was lucky enough to not have to testify.

When he returned to school, he had fun doing things with Grant. He passed most of his classes with ease, and the teachers were a lot friendlier with him since he no longer disrupted their classes. He still got in the occasional fight, but he had Grant to back him up every time.

He was adjusting well, too. He was pleasantly surprised to know that Dave didn't plan on taking him back, as the man had revealed after filing the report. "You're a good kid, and the system has failed you," he explained. "The least I can do is make sure you have someone to rely on, to help you through everything."

He still didn't like being touched, but he started to initiate high fives and fistbumps more often. It was progress.

He also got a new therapist, one that didn't assault him. Sometimes he didn't talk during their sessions, in which case she would take over and ask him boring questions like, "How's the weather been?" or "What's your favorite type of ice cream?"

They talked about his history, too. His abusive father, his enabler mother, and the death of Sean, his little brother. They talked about how guilty he felt when Sean died because he failed to protect him, and how the scars littering his body gave him a constant reminder of how little his biological parents loved him. He made progress, slowly but steadily. He had yet to face a setback, but his therapist, Mrs. Carter, said everyone had them, and not to feel bad when one came. 

Dave also asked him how he'd feel about boxing. Apparently, he and Coulson had thought that boxing would be good for Grant and Aaron. They didn't complain; punching people without getting in trouble sounded great, and it would give them something else to bond over.

Aaron was adjusting well, according to his therapist. He was more trusting of Dave and the others, even if he was wary of everyone else. He was doing good.

And, most importantly of all, he felt good. He felt okay. He loved the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual, but I'm happy-ish with it. Don't worry, this isn't coming to an end; I have a lot more planned for this ;)  
> Just adding it here, I redid the first chapter because I was unhappy with it, and also because I forgot Derek existed.. oops. Also, are y'all sleeping okay?? The comments are from the middle of the night lol, so unless y'all are on the other side of the world.. o-o


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bike. A ditch. And a hospital visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something different, so here ya go. Don't worry, there's gonna be some hurt/comfort in the next chapter.

Dave had gotten Aaron a bike after a month of good behavior, and he soon learned that Coulson had done the same for Grant. They spent the weekend riding them around town, learning the roads and having a generally good time. After some convincing, Dave agreed to let him ride his bike to school in the morning, but warned him that he'd have to leave earlier. Aaron was fine with that. Small price to pay to do something he genuinely enjoyed.

On Monday, he went through his same routine; wake up at six, shower, and eat. He left at seven, however, instead of being picked up by Coulson at 7:45, giving him plenty of time to get to school. He met up with Grant on the way there, who had convinced his foster parent to let him ride his bike too. They were halfway there when they came upon a dangerous part of the route; it was the only part that didn't have a sidewalk or a bike lane, so they were forced to go on the road. 

Aaron was laughing at a joke Grant made one moment, and then he was tumbling down into a ditch the next. His helmet, which, regrettably, had not been strapped on, fell off before he hit the ground; resulting in him banging his head on a rock. He felt his leg burning from where it had scraped along the rocks, but not much else. His vision blurred and his neck felt warm and sticky. He could faintly hear Grant calling his name.

"Aaron? Are you okay?"

Aaron shifted, or tried to, and was hit with a wave of pain severe enough to make him cry out. Grant took that as a no.

"I'm gonna call 9-1-1," he heard Grant say. Aaron, meanwhile, tried to figure out exactly what hurt. His leg and his head were obvious; it took him a moment to realize his wrist had been twisted awkwardly beneath him when he fell. He tried to roll onto his side, grinding his teeth to avoid crying out again. He was able to move his wrist out from under him, but once he saw it, he really wished he had kept it under.

It was twisted at an awkward angle with purple and blue bruises already forming around it. It was swollen, too, and any movement of it felt like a knife stabbing through his wrist. 

"Uh, Grant," he said. His friend turned around, muttering a 'holy shit' before updating Coulson. 

"Aaron, don't move, okay? You could have, like, a spinal thing, or whatever."

"I assure you, my spine is fine. I can feel... everything."

Grant nodded, unsure of what to do. 

"Well, ambulance is on the way. I should probably call Coulson, huh?"

"Probably should," Aaron murmured, starting to feel pretty faint.

"Hey, uh, don't fall asleep, okay? You need to stay awake."

"I know first aid, Grant. I won't purposefully pass out," he said, pressing down lightly on his broken wrist to wake him up.

"I don't think they'll let us ride our bikes again," Grant joked, sitting down on the side of the road. 

"Prob'ly not," Aaron replied, sighing.

"How're you feeling?"

"Head hurts. I feel like shit, to be honest."

"Yeah, that was a stupid question."

Soon, they heard the sound of sirens in the distance. Grant stood up to wave them down while Aaron fought to stay awake. He must've blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing he knew, there were two paramedics and a firefighter standing at the top of the ditch.

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" One of them asked.

"Yeah," he said, glancing around.

"Alright, my friend here is gonna come down and strap you to this board, alright? Then we'll lift you up and take you to the hospital. Sound good?"

"Sure, whatever. I'm not four, don't speak to me like I am," he said, fiery personality shining through even while he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Grant, make sure to take my bike back, alright?" He instructed as the other paramedic hopped down beside him.

"You sure you don't want me to ride with you?"

"And leave both the bikes here? Hell no. I'll be fine," he insisted, wincing when the firefighter shifted him onto his side.

"Alright. I'll head out once you leave."

Soon enough, he was being lifted out of the ditch, a quite painful process, really. Once he was out, though, he was put on a stretcher and strapped in before being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

"Cya, Grant," he called out. He heard a faint 'bye' from his friend before a paramedic closed the doors.

"You seem pretty unfazed by this," the paramedic in the back with him commented.

"I've suffered through worse."

The guy nodded, attaching him to a monitor. 

"I need to take your shirt off, alright?"

"Sure. Don't be alarmed, though."

The paramedic gave him a weird look before cutting the fabric off from around his chest. The guy's lips made a surprised 'o' expression before he quickly got to work attaching the little sticky circles onto him.

"I need your name and age."

"Aaron Hotchner, fifteen. You?"

The guy gave him an amused look. "Jason Gideon. I'm twenty-seven. Call me Jay."

"I knew a Jay once. He was an ass."

The paramedic laughed. "Well, I promise not to be an ass, Aaron."

Aaron sniffed. "I smell gasoline."

The paramedic sniffed too. "There's no gasoline."

Aaron looked confused for a moment before starting to say something. His eyes suddenly rolled back and he began to seize, entire body shaking against the straps. The paramedic turned his head to the side and injected a needle into his arm, making the seizure slow to a stop. Aaron slowly regained consciousness.

"Welcome back. You had a seizure. Means your concussion is more serious than we thought," Jay explained, shining a light into his pupils.

"Just my luck," he sighed. "Just my luck."

* * *

When he got to the hospital, he was met by Dave. He felt a sense of relief at knowing he was there, even if he didn't completely trust the guy.

"Hey, Aaron. How do you feel?"

"Like shit," he mumbled, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. 

"He had a seizure on the way here," the doctor assigned to him supplied. "We're going to get an MRI and a CT scan of his head. Hopefully it's just a bad concussion."

Dave nodded, sitting on a stool by the bed. He was still in the ER, waiting to be taken for the tests. His wrist had already been set (painful) and casted in a black cast, a color Aaron liked.

"Guess I'm not riding my bike for the near future, huh?" He asked sleepily.

"No," Dave chuckled. "No, you're not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second short-ish chapter in a row lol. Sorry y'all, I'm exhausted. Quality over quantity, though, right? Unless this is shit and it's worthless. Oh well.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some nice fluff and the 'comfort' part of the hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently writing this as I sit in my science class. I usually write during band period, but hey. When you do the work weeks in advance, it has some advantages.
> 
> Also, this story is taking a bit of a different direction than I originally planned, and the next few chapters are ones I might end up rewriting because I'm thinking of adding a new factor in, but I'm not sure how it'll affect the rest of the plan I had for this yet, so I'll have to see.

Aaron was discharged around three in the afternoon after being at the hospital for nearly seven hours. All his imaging came back relatively normal, fortunately, only showing signs of a pretty nasty concussion. After being observed for a while, they deemed him safe enough to go home, with strict instructions to rest for the week. The only real risk was the seizures, which could last up to a year or two after the concussion. He'd already had a second one at the hospital, which made it seem pretty likely that it would continue, although hopefully only for a few weeks. 

He put up a fight when it came time to ride in a wheelchair out to the car, but after some stern words from Rossi, he sat down and let the nurse wheel him outside. He hated feeling like such a burden. 

Dave helped him into the passenger side, despite Aaron's hands pushing against his guided support. He must've said "I'm fine" at least five times between the door and the car, and Rossi knew that amount would only increase when they got home.

"At least you have a week off of school," Dave said, looking for the silver lining.

"Yeah, and then four months of being unable to write," Aaron scoffed, sighing.

"But it's your left hand."

"I'm left-handed, Dave," Aaron said. Rossi nodded, holding back a smile from the teen's use of his name.

"Looks like you'll be playing a lot of Scrabble, then, huh?"

Aaron only chuckled at that, looking out the window. 

"Did Grant bring my bike back?" He asked after a few minutes.

"I think Phil has it at his house for now," Dave said. 

Aaron nodded, exhaling through his nose. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

When they got home, the other kids had yet to arrive back from school. Dave offered a game of Scrabble, which Aaron happily obliged to do. He was a lot better at it than the adult, which was surprising considering Aaron's grades in English.

After a third and fourth round of Scrabble, there was a flurry of knocks on the front door mixing with the muffled chatter of the kids. Dave went to open the door, surprised to see all the kids there with Phil, the other foster parent's included.

"Grant wanted to see how Aaron was doing, and then the other kids wanted to come too, so I figured it might be nice for them to hang out. That way, Aaron won't be too preoccupied with the youngsters," Phil explained as they filed inside. Aaron was equally as surprised when the kids came in, crowding around the table where he sat.

"How do you feel?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Do you have brain damage?"

There was a flurry of questions and Aaron did his best to answer them, although his processing speed was still slower than usual. Eventually, Dave pulled them away, leaving only Grant as he herded them into the living room.

"So."

"So."

They looked at each other, Aaron's eyes slightly glazed over.

"How was the ambulance, and the hospital?" Grant asked, taking a seat.

"Well, I had two seizures, so not fun, I guess," Aaron told him, rubbing his eyes.

"Because of the concussion?"

"Yep."

"Oh." Grant paused. "Is it permanent?"

"I hope not," Aaron said dryly, smiling. "Care to be beaten at Scrabble?" He suggested, gesturing to the game board.

"Nah, you're the one that's gonna be beaten. I'm at an advantage now that you're concussed."

They played several rounds, eventually letting Spencer and FitzSimmons join in. The three youngest beat Aaron and Grant easily, although Aaron was a tad more difficult. They were all laughing, grinning at each other mischievously as they tried to one-up another person. As it neared five o'clock, Dave came in and stopped the game, saying it was time for Phil's kids to go.

"Bye, Aaron!" Jemma said enthusiastically. He chuckled and told her 'bye' in return. Leo only smiled and nodded shyly at him, and Aaron gave him a grin back.

"I'll see you sometime tomorrow, Aaron," Grant said, high-fiving his good arm.

"See ya, Grant."

After the kids were gone, things began to wind down, with Dave helping him upstairs and into bed after a quick snack of fruit. The foster parent figured he'd try and get him to eat more when he woke him up in four hours for the usual check. Aaron fell asleep quickly, the exhaustion from the concussion and the day in general catching up with him. 

* * *

At around eleven at night, Dave walked upstairs and quietly entered the shared bedroom, gently shaking Aaron awake. The teenager looked at him sleepily, giving him a thumbs up.

"Do you feel like eating anything?" Rossi whispered. He was disappointed when Aaron shook his head but hid it behind a smile and nod.

"Alright, I'll wake you up in another four hours then."

They continued with that routine until Aaron got up (around seven, earlier than the other kids). Dave managed to force him to eat another bowl of fruit, sitting with him and quietly checking up on the news via his phone.

"Feel any better?" He asked after a few minutes. Aaron shrugged.

"I feel weird, I guess," he explained briefly, putting a strawberry in his mouth.

"Weird?" Dave asked. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No, I just don't feel right? If that makes any sense."

The foster parent shrugged. "Well, if you start feeling worse or anything, please tell me."

"I will." 

Dave gave him a look.

"I promise," he added begrudgingly.

Aaron finished most of the fruit and carried the bowl over to the sink, rubbing his head with his casted arm. "Up for a game of Scrabble?" Dave asked behind him. He sniffed and nodded, taking a seat at the table. They played the game until the other kids wandered downstairs, hair messy from sleep.

"Morning," Derek mumbled. Penelope seemed almost dead, wandering around the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. Spencer didn't bother getting something to eat; he just sat down next to Aaron and watched them play the game. JJ didn't come down until thirty minutes later, soccer ball in hand and a rushed "I'm going to play soccer outside, bye" coming out of her mouth.

Spencer whispered different words into Aaron's ear, easily giving him the upper hand. Dave made a mock angry face, saying, "Hey!" in a joking tone. The trio laughed quietly, returning to the game soon after.

It was when Aaron paused, closing his eyes that Dave began to worry.

"Aaron, everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just, I just feel dizzy."

Dave nodded. "Let's take a break."

Aaron put his head down on the table, closing his eyes. Dave watched him carefully, trying to spot any sign of illness. If there had been any, he missed it, because it was like a switch went off and the teenager started seizing again, falling out of his chair. Spencer stood back and watched, eyes wide with fear, while Derek herded him and Penelope away. Dave, following the hospital's instructions, stabilized his head and tilted it to the side, keeping an eye on his watch to get a general estimate of how long it lasted. After two minutes, his body stilled, and a minute after that, the teenager blinked his eyes open, squinting.

"Hey, Aaron, you just had a seizure. I'm going to move you to the couch, okay? Ready to stand?"

Dave carefully moved him over to the couch, setting him down. The other kids peeked in, an obvious question on their tongue. The foster parent covered him up with a blanket and sat in one of the recliners, keeping an eye on him.

It really would be a long, long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's short, but it's out. I planned on putting this out yesterday, but I was having a sucky day and the only productive thing I was able to do was take a shower (which I really needed, the past few weeks haven't been the best). Expect shorter chapters and less frequent posting, but I'll try to get one or two chapters out a week. Thanks.


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